At Givenchy, Riccardo Tisci is the master of logo-less label-less branding. His clothes are so recognisable, so unmistakably Givenchy, but never feature words or names. He's done this in two ways; by owning a set of shapes - oversized basketball shirts, big baggy shorts, meggings (male leggings), sweaters - and by owning print. Rottweilers. Flames. Madonnas. He's made them all his own. Sometimes you wonder how he keeps himself busy each season when a lot of the work must be complete as soon as said print is picked, given how rare silhouette changes are. So maybe Tisci was feeling restless this season then, and tired of churning out new hits, as you got the sense he'd pulled back. The collection was completely monochrome. The first few looks comprised entirely of simple black tailoring.
Rather than pander to the Givenchy man or the waiting press, it seemed like Tisci was instead reigning things in and defining what Givenchy is, and has been, up until now. He said he was exploring the sensual, romantic side of his man. Indeed, there was a definite wistfulness in this collection, from the clingy white flower pattern that covered coats and jackets and looked like millions of drops of paint to the nostalgic ode to pearly kings and queens with that embellishment. According to Tisci this was all about love, but then Tisci's been seeing a lot of that lately what with the nuptials of mega Givenchy fans Kim Kardashian and Kanye West. Maybe that explains the quiet, poetic turn - could Tisci be taking stock? Aptly, the set for the show featured a large installation by artist Paul Veroude - an 'Exploded Plane' in the form of a Reims Cessna F172E, stripped apart and suspended in pieces in the air. It was a suitable accompaniment for a collection that seemed to be about breaking up the current Givenchy codes, stripping back each signature and treading water in preparation for future innovation.
